The winner gets it all

Ethan Oliver Harrison's POV

I barely had time to breathe before one of the United States's players hit me with his thick shoulder, causing me to stumble. We were halfway through the match, but my body already felt like I had run a marathon. I had been targeted by my opponents over five times, and bruises were forming on my knees. The arena was roaring louder than ever. I was sweating profusely, and the scoreboard showed that Canada was losing. My parents were among the crowd, and I tried to avoid them, but it was impossible. The look in their eyes was void and threatening. My father was acting like my coach, directing me to attempt a special stunt, but when it failed, he yelled that I was a bastard.

I was the one doing all the hard work of skating, passing, and getting hit, yet my teammates looked even more exhausted. After skating hard to catch a pass, I stopped to adjust my glove. Next thing I knew, I was slammed into the boards by a hard surface, and my head hit the ice.

“Fuck!” I screamed, touching my helmet and rolling on the ice in pain. My hips were red and swollen from the impact, and it felt like the blood circulation was cut off. None of my teammates seemed concerned; they were more invested in hearing the fans' praises.

“Watch where you're going next time, Toronto,” the United States defenseman said with an arrogant smile. He didn’t apologize and left to join his grinning teammates.

I lay on the ice, my head throbbing and pain coursing through my body. My hips felt stiff, and I couldn’t move. “Suicide? Is that an option?” I murmured to myself. Yes, I was so pathetic that I began to consider taking my life. The situation felt unbearable, and I couldn't think of a better escape.

“Hey, you alright?” A gentle voice broke through my thoughts. When I opened my eyes, I saw the most handsome face in the world. Oh, it’s just….

“Kane?” I gasped, my eyes widening in realization. I should have jumped up to show him that I was strong and independent, but the pain in my muscles and joints left me paralyzed. I could only lie there, at his mercy. His brows were arched as he carefully watched me, and I could swear he looked concerned.

“He's probably just worried that I wouldn’t be able to come to his room tonight,” I lied to myself.

“Are you alright?” he asked again, this time sounding urgent. His gaze was gentle as he checked my body to see if I sustained injuries.

The crowd had noticed our interaction and watched us with keen interest. This seemed to anger my teammates, and only then did they realize I needed help getting up. But none volunteered; they exchanged glances among themselves, as if touching me was infectious.

Kane didn’t take his eyes off me for a second. His gaze was intense, and because I didn't want him to keep staring, I nodded at him. “I'm fine. Thanks for asking.”

He chuckled, his face relaxing into a relieved smile. “Here,” he said, stretching out his hand to me. “Let me help you up. It doesn’t look like anyone else cares,” he added, glancing at my team's goalie.

My teammates, on seeing his gesture, ran to my side to earn fake friendship points from the fans. I was tired of acting like they were good people, so I ignored them. Three of their hands were stretched out, desperate to earn points, but I chose Kane's, and he smiled sweetly while helping me up. So cringe…..

The medical team brought a stretcher, and I was carried off the ice. I could see the sadness on the faces of my fans, some were even crying, begging me to get well soon. I loved them; they were my biggest supporters and the reason I stayed sane and smiling. As for my parents, they seemed more worried about the team failing without me than about my health. It's not like I was hoping for their love anyway.

“Once I win this match, I expect to see you later today,” Kane whispered in my ear, sending seductive chills through my body. My eyes widened. I quickly checked to make sure the medical staff didn’t hear his words.

–––

TWO HOURS LATER (4 o'clock)

Commentator: “... And that's a wrap for hockey for the year 2017. The winning team will be playing against Switzerland. Congratulations on earning your spot in the finals!” (Cheering!)

I lay on my soft bed, my body sinking into its gentle texture. I wasn’t in the arena anymore, but I could hear the celebration from my neighbors who were watching the match on TV. I didn’t know whether to frown or smile, so I did neither.

“Faggot! Those imbeciles won again! The final was my dream, I would have become the greatest!” My father's hoarse voice echoed down the corridor. I immediately tried to close my eyes to fake sleeping, but it was too late.

“It’s all your fault! Why did you drop out of the tournament?” my father demanded, scowling. Before I could respond, he continued, “Because of a minor injury? Are you the first man to break his hips? What’s so special about you? Are you gay? Why can’t you man up for once?!” He yelled at the top of his lungs. Normally, my head would be bowed as I apologized. But today, I didn't. I was tired of being his perfect son. I wanted to be free, even if it was only for a day, so I stared at him and sighed.

“Father, my head and legs hurt, please can we talk about this later?” I asked with a polite smile, and my father growled like a lion awakened from its sleep. He rushed to my side and violently pressed my swollen hips till I cried out in pain. My mother watched silently, not bothering to intervene.

The torturing would have continued if my father hadn't received an urgent business call from a powerful agency. After he and my mother left, I began to think about my life and I realized that I was a failure. “No one will ever respect me. I'm chained for life.”

—

NIGHT (7:45)

“Nervous? Yes, yes, I am.”

I stared into the mirror for the umpteenth time trying to perfect my makeup. The pain in my hips had subsided, and I was feeling better. I was dressed in a casual shirt and jeans. I had picked it after trying out over five different attires. But when I looked in the mirror, I was unsure if the clothes were perfect.

“What would a guy wear to visit his boyfriend, knowing they might end up in bed?” I asked myself, and my ears turned red. “Fuck, Ethan! He is not your boyfriend!” I said to my reflection, and my cheeks were flustered.

After ten minutes of assuring myself that this was the best thing to do, I used a mouthwash and left my room. I wasn't going just because I was scared of my secret becoming headlines. I also wanted to know what it felt like to be with a guy. I have never dated a man, and the ladies I have been with were for the public's sake. I didn't have feelings for them.

The Hockey semifinal Sponsors were the ones who placed all teams in this luxurious five-star hotel. But I didn't expect Kane to use his influence in getting my room and his relocated side by side. One thing I was certain about was that Kane planned ahead. He knew I was going to visit his room tonight. How? That's what I must find out.

I took a deep breath before knocking on his door. I styled my shirt as I waited for an answer.

When the door was opened, two young ladies dressed questionably, came out of his room. I quickly turned my head to the other side to make sure they didn't see my face. As soon as they left, I rushed into his room and locked the door.

“You bastard! How dare you set me up!” I yelled at the top of my voice, luckily, the room was soundproof. I could feel jealousy bubbling up inside of me, and I couldn't explain why.

The room walls were made of glass and the curtains covering them were open, giving the room a good night view and allowing the owner to see what was happening in the streets. I was mesmerized by the red light of cars, and the street lights glittering before my eyes, but I quickly reminded myself to stay angry.

Kane was seated on a couch facing the glass. He was wearing only pants, and his muscular and tattooed body glowed under the chandelier. A cigarette was in the middle of his finger, and he gently slipped from the wine glass on his table.

“It's 7:58, I thought we agreed on 8? Are you that excited?” He asked plainly, still backing me.

I looked at my wristwatch and sighed, embarrassed. “I can come back if you want,” I said, and turned to leave.

“Don't bother. You're already here!” He replied and stood up. He dropped his wine and faced me, his eyes focused on my face. His gaze was intense, and I drooled under his mighty presence. His eyes looked lazy, and he had a yearning expression. I swallowed the spit lump in my throat, my eyes shyly taking in his body. 

Kane squinted his eyes and gently pushed me to the bed. My eyes widened, and before I could react, he was removing my jeans.

“What are you trying to do?” My voice cracked as I spoke, and I quickly pushed him away from me, while holding my jeans like a virgin.

Kane's mischievous smirk returned to his face, and he crawled to my side, licking his lips. “Don't worry, I just want to massage your hips. The night is long, we can visit other aspects later,” he whispered into my ear, positioning himself in the middle of my legs. He carefully removed the other layers on my lower half, and my ears betrayed me and turned pink.

His eyes lingered on my dick, and he smiled. “How cute,” he murmured. He placed my hips on his legs, the tip of my dick rubbing his thigh.

“Fuck!” I moaned softly, and my nipples hardened. I tried to act unaffected, but the way he gently caressed my hips was messing with my brain. It was like he was purposefully teasing me, and my dick was playing right into his trap.

I didn't want to be the innocent one, so I pulled his face, and smashed my lips on his, cigarettes and red wine tasting in my mouth as he deepened the kiss.

“The night has just begun!”